Cinquante Annees

Tags

05/22/1970, Birthday Poem, North Carolina, Raleigh, Sips & Scripts, Yvette Holder

Nineteen-seventy
package heavenly
brought forth upon Earth
child who grew in worth.
Yvette, langue Francaise
dear, sweet crepe Suzette
lovely as can be
reigns so royally.

She of face and form
surpasses the norm
dans l’esprit et l’âme
rivals Solomon.
Giving graciously
rules amicably
in Court Sips & Scripts,
cracks her velvet whip.

Polaris, North Star,
she outshines by far.
Dog Star, Sirius?
She causes to blush
For know can’t compete
Yvette’s sweetest mete.
Reigning in splendor
Golden ‘Versary.

Fifty years she’s graced,
fifty years been blessed.
Homage now I pay
Blessed Queen of May.
Verse hyperbolic?
My praise it is not.
She’s earned every word.
She’s draft that besots.

Apologies for my terrible French!

See Me!

Tags

"Wishin' and Hopin'"- by Hal David and Burt Bacharach. (Sung by Dusty Springfield), ABC's of Visibility, Bicycles, Bicycles for Transportation, Corona Virus, COVID 19, Lockdown, North Carolina, Peter Townsend- "We're Not Gonna Take It", Pogo/Walt Kelly- "We have seen the enemy and it is us.", Rules Of The Road

In Peter Townsend’s song We’re Not Gonna Take It he wrote, “See me, Feel me, Touch me, Heal me,” and today I’m going to focus on the importance of the first two while cycling so as to prevent the necessity for the last one.

June will mark my fortieth year of successful cycle commuting, a noteworthy feat in light of the fact that bicycle commuting is ranked as the most deadly per capita means of getting back and forth to work.* (Transparency dictates a confession that I suspended commuting by bike for most of the 27 months I languished in the hellhole known as Florida. Those fools’ll kill ya as quickly as they’ll run a red light.) Safe cycling is both an art and a science and has a very steep learning curve. I’ve only been struck once while commuting (The other two times I was just out riding.) and I’ve managed to avoid being struck since June 1987. (Okay, I crashed May 2019 when I had to slam my brakes on hard in a downhill left turn when a driver blew through a stop sign and turned left in front of me, but technically Robert G. didn’t hit me.)

Traditionally distracted drivers have been my cycling nemesis but COVID 19 has changed all that, now, to quote Pogo/Walt Kelly, “We have seen the enemy and it is us.” The Corona Virus “Lockdown” has the good citizens of North Carolina mostly staying home to the point that traffic-wise every day is Sunday and the lack of diversions and a desire to stay physically, mentally, and spiritually healthy is bringing folks out into the great outdoors in droves. (BTW- if we all decided that taking care of Mama Terra Firma was a real priority and decided to replace driving everywhere with a whole lot more cycling then the whole car/bike interaction would be turned upside down and the risk to cyclists would become a minute fraction of what it currently is in our car crazed country.)

I am seeing folks walking, running, cycling, and PLAYING more than ever before and with parks closed they’re using sidewalks, greenways, and residential streets as their playgrounds to which I shout a heartfelt, “Hallelujah!” After decades of singing along with Dusty Springfield and, “Wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’ and plannin’ and dreamin’,” that people would get out of their cars and take to the streets by bike, trike, or flight it’s happened! Hooray!

Or not hooray.

Remember those distracted drivers and that steep learning curve I mentioned above? Applies to all the folks who’re out and about and don’t have a clue concerning how one is supposed to, or is legally required to, proceed. My dream of peaceful coexistence with my fellow enlightened cyclists and outdoorsy folks turned out to be overly optimistic. Same folks who drive their cars without regard for others feel it’s their right to do what might while walkin’, bikin’, and runnin’ as well, and it’s driving me NUTS!

Let us begin with the simple reality that a bicycle is a vehicle governed by the same laws as other vehicles. The law DICTATES that we must cycle WITH traffic, not against. Stop signs, traffic lights, turn-signals, yielding right-of-way and NOT DRIVING ON THE SIDEWALK are also legal requirements for cyclists. (NOTE- some glorified sidewalks are Bike Paths and therefore exempt from the law that makes cycling on the sidewalk a legal no-no.)

I will return to bikes in a moment but first let’s focus on the gray area of walking and running:

-It is recommended that we walk and run FACING traffic and either use a sidewalk or stay close to the curb.

-For the love of everything holy, if you live in an area with a leash law you must keep Fido on a leash! I’m sure you’re sure your little fur-baby will never do anything inappropriate but when you do not abide by a leash law you are screaming entitlement and a belief that your Right to flaunt the law supersedes the Rights of everyone else.

-Proceeding with traffic, headphones blaring, oblivious to the world, out in the middle of the lane, crossing the street without first checking over our shoulder to make sure no one is sneaking up from behind is a really bad idea if we wish to  get home unscathed. So is not dressing for the occasion.

There is no doubt that black is slimming but when we are moving about with other pedestrians, cyclists, and drivers it is imperative to realize that Bright is RIGHT! Ditch the dark and wear clothes that allow others to see us. The life you save may be your own!

There is no arguing that bicycle helmets reduce death and serious injury. It doesn’t take a car slamming into a bike for a brain to become permanently injured. Things happen, and a helmet is cheap insurance that ups the odds of a crash resulting in a boo-boo rather than a life altering or ending tragedy. Put your helmet on, make it fit, and snap the buckle!

After accepting the unequivocal importance of helmets and understanding that, “Yes! The rules of the road apply to you!” the next item on our list is learning our ABC’s.  ABC’s are a visibility mnemonic that will help everyone see us.

A is for, “Always on,” and it refers to eye squintingly bright, intermittently flashing head and taillights. BOTH! Most bike car collisions happen in intersections and that makes a headlight your best friend. Your intuition may tell you that a taillight is more critical than a headlight but just like the misguided notion that sidewalks are safe places to cycle so too do stats and facts prove time and again that hits from the front in intersections are our real enemies.

B is “Bio-motion,” or bobbing up and down. Our brains are hardwired to detect moving objects more readily than stationary and it is our feet, knees and lower legs bobbing up and down and,  after our daytime bright head and taillights, it is these that attract the most attention.

Bio-motion works hand-in-hand with C, or “Contrast.” See those pictures of me looking like an Easter Egg? That is CONTRAST and combining those bright colors in a psychedelic explosion gets me noticed.

In addition to following the rules of the road, wearing a helmet, and practicing my ABC’s I also use a rearview mirror that I check regularly. Keeping our head in the game is critical if we wish to coexist and live beyond our COVID pandemic and I hope each of you engages in virus fighting measures, gets out and about and helps our fellow passengers on our big blue planet make themselves and the world as a whole a whole lot better.

*https://www.cnn.com/2020/03/11/health/cycling-to-work-benefits-injuries-wellness/index.html

Confound Conflate

Tags

"Quarantine", Black Death, Chicken Little- "The sky is falling!", Corona Virus, COVID 19, Edward Allan Poe- "The Masque of the Red Death", Ferryman, Grim Reaper, Lock-Down, New York, North Carolina, Prince Prospero, Prudent Precautions, Red Death, Shelter In Place, Spreading Fear, Warren Zevon- "Splendid isolation", Washington DC

World may be stage but whole globe round sun’s corona I fear confounds. Confound, conflate, cower and hide! Shelter in Place, tomorrow die! Word “Quarantine” bandied about more oft misused, good sense to rout. A quarantine is forty days, not a fortnight, what’s game we play?

Shelter in place or a lock-down? Let’s take a breath not have a cow. If know or think we’ve been exposed then quarantine fourteen days go. But most of us need not lock doors to light of day, from life clamber. The big bright sun that lights our globe to its warm rays should be exposed.

To congregate in public place is not smart move, declare post haste, but cowering with dark inside makes our souls shrink, can’t be denied. Chicken Little’s infamous squawk, “The sky’s falling!” has hit the mark. Zevon’s Splendid Isolation was a lament not call action.

I make not light of dark illness but’s not Black Death on our doorstep. Nor Masque of Red Prince Prospero as detailed by Edward A. Poe. Black Death ain’t new and neither’s fear, I did import two COVID’s here. Met Capitol of USA as ferryman drove south our way. 

They from New York, us from Raleigh, did meet halfway then southward flee State of Alarm in their home State demanded we travel post haste. Not ostriches with heads in sand nor shaking geese who in south land, rather couple of teenage boys who we shelter far from grim noise. 

Grim noise klaxon of Grim Reaper, God grant us sense to tamp down fear.  The threat is real and really hyped, keep perspective morning, noon, night. I’ve two young bucks, sons of wife’s niece, who’re in my house without surcease. They’re refugees COVID-19, fled New York State came south to me.

They’re welcome here inside my home, out in nature we four do roam, not nonchalant nor denial, we simply know value ramble. Social Distance and washing hands, avoiding groups all understand, but life inside, away from all? Is too disease, go glimpse great sol. 

World may be stage but whole globe round sun’s corona I fear confounds. Confound, conflate, cower and hide! Shelter in Place, tomorrow die!

Continued On My Ride

Tags

All Weather Commuting, Bicycles for Transportation, Bicycling, Commuting, Cycling, Fallen Trees, February 6 2020, North Carolina, Raleigh, Stubbornness, Tornadoes, Torrents Of Rain, Weather

I’m an obstinate man
I admit that I am
my attitudes laid back
but stubbornness don’t crack
Manifest attribute
in cycling pursuit
I bike from home to work
regardless weather quirks

On February sixth
In town Raleigh, N-C
we had a little storm
blew and poured beyond norm
Some horizontal rain
and lots of trees fallin’
had people asking me
if I would be cycling

Six centimeters fell
blaring sirens did tell
about tornado whirls
that were rockin’ our world
But it was end of shift
I longed to get home swift
during a lull in storm
when I’d ride safe from harm

Generous offers from
three of my workmate chums
said they’d be happy to
clock-out keep me from slough
Grateful for their kindness
but into storm I slipped
half-dozen blinking lights
so I’d be seen all right

I traveled half-a-mile
‘fore progress proved sessile
as across my bike path
was tree who’d seen its last
Dismounted from my bike
and took a little hike
A task I would repeat
as ride I did complete

Fallen some mighty oaks
and streams whose banks had broke
presented stunning scene
proceeded at half steam
As waited at red light
gal concerned for my plight
rolled down her car window
asked if in car would go

I thanked her sincerely
for generosity
continued on my ride
underneath raining sky
Road through a Road Closed sign
I paid it never mind
cycled through lazy stream
hard headed human being

I traveled on my way
through neighborhood byways
the traffic it was light
as schools had closed from fright
Enjoyed my soggy slog
as I cycled along
but was happy to get
safely home only wet.

I’m an obstinate man
I admit that I am
my attitudes laid back
but stubbornness don’t crack
Manifest attribute
in cycling pursuit
I bike from home to work
regardless weather quirks

She Knows

Tags

North Carolina, Raleigh, Sips & Scripts, Yvette L. Holder

Know you’re fair of form
and lovely of face
with enchanting smile
and uplifting grace.
With arms open wide
for ready embrace
your presence’s lovely
and to you mirth trace.

Court The Lord’s presence
with invitations
welcome multitudes
to Art of Athens,
facilitator
with scripts and bourbon,
steadfast believer
and resolute friend.

Yvette in Française
translates to, “She knows,”
knows how to uplift
salve fragile egos,
though she’s a poem
deals far more in prose,
deserving of praise
impresario.

You stretched out your hand
grasped mine in friendship
with motivation
create and uplift.
There’s no quid pro quo
in relationship.
You’re just gracious soul
heartfelt fellowship.

Lucien Percival Smith: Crown of Nobility

Tags

Compassion, Fuquay Varina North Carolina, Holy Springs North Carolina, Love, Lucien Percival Smith, Nobility, North Carolina, Stageworks Productions, The Boys Next Door, Tom Griffin

If Lucien Percival Smith’s crown of nobility were literal rather than literary it would no doubt snap his neck. Lucien, incapable of learning the alphabet song or even reading letters, is clearly lacking in smarts but his acts, his love and his embrace of those in need shows clearly the gallantry of his heart and elevates him to the pinnacle of nobility. If IQ were the measure of the man Lucien would be positioned firmly beneath his three assisted living housemates as his intellect is as base as the bottom of a totem pole but when we ordinate based on compassion and acceptance then Lucien becomes a shining beacon of what is good and noble in the human species. 

Bringing Lucien to life on stage parallels what living Lucien’s life must be like. Lucien’s response to conversation that swirl around him are so far off tempo that I am reminded of science fiction love-stories where madly passionate lovers are temporally displaced and can only communicate in the most oblique of manners but whose bond and commitment is so strong that their love overcomes all obstacles. Overcoming all obstacles through love and compassion is Lucien P. Smith, a man whose depth of comprehension may be the shallowest of reflecting pools but whose compassion is the stillest of deep waters.

Playing the part of Lucien, while a joy, is also, to quote the man, “Hard, hard, hard.”  Lucien Percival Smith temporally transports me back to my work with elementary aged special needs children and their desire to please, their need to achieve and their refusal to quit despite limited abilities. If each of us had a heart like Lucien’s there would be no limit to the good we could bring into the world.

Seeing the world through his eyes has no doubt opened mine.

Barry Klemper- “The Boys Next Door”

Tags

"Barry Klemper" James Flaherty, "Kipper Klemper"- James Ackerman, Fuquay Varina North Carolina, Holy Springs North Carolina, North Carolina, Stageworks Productions, The Boys Next Door, Tom Griffen

Stagework’s production of The Boys Next Door opens November seventh. Our rehearsal began September seventeenth. September seventeenth is also the day our originally cast Barry Klemper dropped out of the production.

For those not in the know, TBND has a cast of thirteen and Barry is one of the boys; four adult men living in a group home under the part-time supervision of Jack Palmer. There are no scenes in TBND where at least one of the boys or caretaker Jack do not appear and Barry is present on 23 of the script’s 66 pages. His is a pretty pivotal role and not having Barry was a big deal. 

James Flaherty stepped into a difficult role two weeks behind the rehearsal curve and three plus weeks after the rest of the cast got our scripts. The character James Flaherty has created is so solid that, having seen it once, I decline to watch his penultimate appearance, the scene where we meet his father Kipper Klemper (Bruce Ackerman.)

Mr. Klemper institutionalized schizophrenic Barry after the death of Mrs. Klemper. Barry, who subsequently spent his  nineteen-seventies era teen years in mental institutions, has transitioned well to “The Boys” assisted living apartment. Mr. Klemper, who last saw Barry nine years ago, sends his son a letter announcing an upcoming trip to Boston and his intention of visiting his son. Barry is simultaneously terrified and optimistic concerning his abusive father’s impending arrival.

Kipper Klemper’s visit, his subsequent impotent, anguished raging abuse directed at the son he longs to be well but whose reality is so repugnant to him, creates the most heartbreakingly  devastating scene in The Boys Next Door. It, like a terrible metal on metal, flesh ripping, bone snapping highway speed collision, is as hard to watch as it is from which to to turn away.

Glassy Eyed

Tags

Alex Krauss, Audrey June Forshey, Brigid, Cary North Carolina, Cary Playwrights Forum: Bar Plays 5.0, Class of 1979, Father's Funeral, Maximilian, North Carolina, Redemption, Rinaldi's Pub, Second Chances, Sherwood High, ten minute play, Vesta, Washington DC

SYNOPSIS:
Present Day. Maximilian returns to D.C. for his father’s funeral and following the burial he and his fellow class of 1979 friend Vesta slip into Rinaldis Pub. The friends are quietly catching up with one another, reminiscing about their youth and telling tales of Max’s father until Max spies bartender Brigid scoop ice from the well with a glass, an irresponsible and dangerous action that causes him to confront the bartender.

CHARACTERS:
MAXIMILIAN: Male. Son of the deceased. Fifty-two years old. Dressed in dark suit.
VESTA: Female. Fifty-three years old. Graduated high school with Maximilian. Dressed in dark clothes.
BRIGID: Female. Bartender. Mid-twenties or younger.

SCENE:
Rinaldi’s Pub, located just outside DC’s Beltway, is slow on a mid-week afternoon in February 2014. Brigid is watching television and checking her phone as Maximilian and Vesta, having just left a funeral, enter.

[MAXIMILIAN holds door for VESTA as they enter Rinaldi’s.] 

MAXIMILIAN:
Wow, Vesta I haven’t been in here since, jeez, 1983? Place hasn’t changed a bit, has it?

VESTA:
Well, some. Music’s different. Crowd’s different. Definitely not as many high schoolers as back in the day.

MAXIMILIAN:
Yeah, well, no surprise there. Glad we slipped by with the old drinking age.

BRIGID:
[Perfunctorily] Hey, folks. Welcome to Rinaldi’s.

MAXIMILIAN:
[To BRIGID] Hey. [Quietly to VESTA] Well there’s one thing that’s changed. I think I have socks older than she is.

VESTA:
Bartenders have always been young here. [VESTA nods at bar.] Bar? [Both sit.] How you holding up, Maxi?

MAXIMILIAN:
Okay. Gosh, thanks so much for coming. Seems we’re to the weddings and funerals stage of life, huh?

VESTA:
Don’t forget class reunions. Thirty-five years this June. Damn we’re old.

BRIGID:
Hey, folks. What can I get you?

MAXIMILIAN:
[Looking at Brigid’s name tag then beer taps] Uhm, Bespoke Blonde please, Brigid?

BRIGID:
Ten or twenty?

MAXIMILIAN:
Pardon?

BRIGID:
Big or little?

MAXIMILIAN:
Oh. Twenty, please.

BRIGID:
Great choice. Ma’am?

VESTA:
Let’s have a coffee amber. Small.

BRIGID:
Perfect. Food?

[MAXIMILIAN and VESTA make eye contact, Shake heads.]

MAXIMILIAN:
No. Just the beers.

BRIGID:
Right back.

VESTA:
You think servers ever do anything but glow over customers’ choices?
You did great with your eulogy by the way.

MAXIMILIAN:
Did I? I can’t judge. Just glad I didn’t break down more than I did.

VESTA:
No. It was perfect. Really good tribute to your dad. I loved the part about Alex Krauss breaking into your house as a joke and your dad walking in on them. How he made them pay for the damage and volunteer at Saint Pete’s but didn’t call the cops? That’s nice. Redemption. Second chances. Good stuff the world needs more of.

MAXIMILIAN:
Thank you. That was Dad alright. Work your way back to salvation. To say nothing of the years of gentle ribbing it provided him whenever Alex came over.

VESTA:
Your brother ever hear from Alex?

MAXIMILIAN:
Yeah, they’re still close and we’re Facebook friends. He just started his second girls school in Kenya. Got a local Realtor who’s really into it to help. Gal by the name of Audrey Forshey?

VESTA:
No. Never heard of her. But that’s great. Redemption, triumph and helping others. Perfect tribute.
Hey? Where’s Maria? Really surprised she wasn’t here?

[BRIGID places two cardboard coasters on the bar before placing the beers on top.]

MAXIMILIAN:
Thanks, Brigid.

VESTA:
Thank you.

[BRIGID nods, smiles and then goes back to watching TV.]

MAXIMILIAN:
Oh, God. She’s fine. I literally got the call from my sister at like eight thirty? Just got home from dropping Maria off at RDU- Raleigh airport? She was headed for the Philippines and I wasn’t sure what to do. I texted her and asked her to call me when she got the message and she calls back around three-thirty from Seattle. Asked me if I wanted her to turn around and come home but I told her no. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t know it was coming, right? She was able to change her return flight so she’ll land at Dulles Friday. I’m going to hang here with my brother and drive us back this weekend.

VESTA:
God, Max. She’ll be a zombie.

MAXIMILIAN:
Yeah. Just moral support. It’s not a bad drive down to Raleigh. Wouldn’t want Dad haunting me from the grave, would I?

VESTA:
Pardon?

MAXIMILIAN:
For unsafe driving. He wrote our drivers ed textbook. You knew that!

VESTA:
That’s right! I forgot. He did, didn’t he?

MAXIMILIAN:
Yep. Have I never told you this story? Dad made a promise to God. A death bed promise that if God would save him he would become a doctor and dedicate his life to saving others.

VESTA:
Deathbed? So, what? Recently?

MAXIMILIAN:
Oh, hell no. Back in the late fifties when he was in service. He was mortally injured- injured, not wounded -while on board ship. Got a Purple Heart. Ripped open his insides and they thought he wasn’t going to make it. Flew him home and he recuperated in Key West for months. Flew him! Big deal back in the day.

VESTA:
So your father was a physician too?

MAXIMILIAN:
Nope. After he recuperated he went to college- GI Bill? -but he couldn’t pass organic chemistry. Instead he went into Drivers Safety, an emerging field. Probably saved thousands of more lives doing what he did than he would have as a doctor.

VESTA:
Huh. How’s the beer?

MAXIMILIAN:
Good. Just so long as it doesn’t taste of cloves. Cloves? Whoever came up with the idea that cloves belong in beer? Yuck! How’s yours?

VESTA:
Tasty. I’ve had this before. So your dad was injured in service? How’d that happen?

MAXIMILIAN:
Long story. Junior officer ordered him to do something unsafe-

BRIGID:
How is everything? Change your mind about some food?

MAXIMILIAN:
No. We just came from a reception. Beer’s good. Uh, may I have a water? Twenty ounce?

BRIGID:
Sure. Ma’am?

VESTA:
Yes please.

[BRIGID walks away to get water.]

VESTA:
“Ma’am.” How I hate being called ma’am. Reminder of how old we are. Something unsafe? What does that mean?

[Brigid grabs two glasses and uses them to scoop ice before filling them with water.]

MAXIMILIAN:
Oh. Big storm, Dad was a RADAR technician and-. Wait! Did, did Brigid just scoop ice with a glass? I. I can’t believe that. My dad was also hospitalized while in service when a big chunk of glass ripped open his urethra and that’s exactly how that happens. People use glasses for scoops, chip falls off, lands in the ice and winds up in somebody’s drink. This shit kills people. It’s illegal!

[BRIGID places water in front of MAXIMILIAN and VESTA.]

MAXIMILIAN:
Uhm, hey?! Did you just scoop ice with a glass glass?

BRIGID:
What? No. That’s not allowed.

MAXIMILIAN:
Yeah, I know it’s not allowed! That shit almost killed my dad, and yes, Brigid, you did! We just came from his funeral. What the hell!

BRIGID:
Sir, lower your voice or you’re going to have to leave.

MAXIMILIAN:
“Lower my voice!” Really? There’s no one else here and you just endangered the lives of anyone who gets ice from that well! What is wrong with you!?

BRIGID:
[BRIGID takes out her phone and begins recording.]Listen, you either need to calm down or I’m calling the cops.

MAXIMILIAN:
Or you’re calling the cops? Don’t O. Henry me. Yes! Why don’t you call a policeman? That’d be great! Save me from having to do it. Vesta, you saw her! Hey, record this, won’t you?

VESTA:
Max. Calm down. It’s okay. No one was injured. [Vesta does not film event.]

BRIGID:
Look! There’s no chips out of you glasses!

MAXIMILIAN:
Wait. What? “There’s no chips out of our glasses?!” So you admit that you used the glass as a scoop!

BRIGID:
I did not say that!

MAXIMILIAN:
You just recorded yourself saying that!

BRIGID:
I did not say that I used a glass as a scoop!

VESTA:
Max, let it go. It’s not worth getting in trouble for. What would your dad say? Second chances.

MAXIMILIAN:
“Getting in trouble?” It’s worth getting in trouble if it saves lives. And why would there be chips out of our glasses if she hadn’t used the glass as a scoop?! Good God, if you can’t do the right thing then at least admit when you made a mistake!

BRIGID:
My manager is coming right back! You should leave before she gets here!

VESTA:
Max, we should go.

MAXIMILIAN:
What? Why?! She’s endangering lives. I’d love to talk to her manager. Or to the cops. Brigid, I’ll be glad to sit tight and wait for your manager. You bet!

BRIGID:
Get out! Or I’m calling the cops!

MAXIMILIAN:
For what? Asking you not to kill your customers?! Wow. Talk about callous.

VESTA:
Max, this is getting us nowhere. Call the BBB, call the department of health, I don’t know, take a picture and put it on Facebook but let’s just go. She’s not worth the trouble.

MAXIMILIAN:
Well my dad is. He dedicated his life to helping people, to saving lives and not two hours after his funeral I’m supposed to let some miscreant who doesn’t care if she endangers people, a woman who lies about what she’s done, just skate? No. No!

BRIGID:
[BRIGID lowers her phone as she stops filming.]And if I did do it? If I admitted to a mistake and said I’ll never do it again? Then what, huh? Will you go then?!

MAXIMILIAN:
And why should I trust you? You lied to us, you threatened us and now you’re contrite? Reformed? Please! What is wrong with you?

BRIGID:
I made a mistake, okay!? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. What do I have to do to convince you?

MAXIMILIAN:
I don’t know. Seem like you care about something other than getting in trouble?

VESTA:
Max, cut her some slack? She said she wouldn’t do it again. What would your dad do here? How would he handle it? Come on!

MAXIMILIAN:
And you trust her? Just like that? First she’s a lying, callous killer and then she’s Mother Theresa? I don’t like it!

BRIGID:
I’m not lying, okay? I did it, alright? I used the glasses and I was wrong. What do I have to do now? Admit it on the internet? Lose my job? There’s no place for redemption with you?

MAXIMILIAN:
Melt the ice.

BRIGID:
What?

MAXIMILIAN:
Melt. The. Ice. You don’t know if there’s glass in there so scoop out all the ice that’s in  the bin, pour hot water on what’s left and then we’ll make sure there’s no glass shards.

BRIGID:
There’s not.

MAXIMILIAN:
Wow! Just wow! You don’t know! There’s no one else in here so you’ve got plenty of time. Provide me with some sign, some measure that shows you’re trustworthy. Sheesh!

VESTA:
Do it, Brigid. Do the right thing. He’s right. You endangered people. You endangered us! Now show us that you’re adult enough to do this little thing. Make it right.

BRIGID:
Fine! Fine. You’re right, okay. Here, I’m scooping out the ice. [BRIGID performs these actions as she speaks.] I’m pouring hot water on what’s left. I’m cleaning everything out with a towel and throwing it away. Satisfied?

VESTA:
Yes.

MAXIMILIAN:
No. Mollified, not satisfied. It’ll do but I don’t like it.

BRIGID:
I told you I won’t do it again.

VESTA:
Let it go, Max. Move on. Redemption. Change of attitude, change of action?

MAXIMILIAN:
Fine. I’ll move on. I hope you keep your word.

[MAXIMILIAN finishes his beer and he and VESTA start to leave.]

BRIGID:
You owe me eleven-sixty-six.

MAXIMILIAN:
For real? Okay. Fairs fair. Here’s twelve dollars. Keep the change, you almost earned it. And keep your word.

[MAXIMILIAN and VESTA exit. BRIGID remains, looking defeated and contrite.]
LIGHTS DOWN

Case In Point

Tags

Cary North Carolina, Cary Playwrights Forum: Bar Plays 5.0, Fortnight Brewery, North Carolina, Pequod Pale Ale 13, ten minute play, Torstein de Beer

SYNOPSIS:
During routine discussion of the meaning of words at the November 21, 2019 monthly meeting of Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly conversation gets heated over more than the ambiguity of the English language.

CHARACTERS:
Torstein de Beer: Male. Heavy German accent. Wears a Kaiser Wilhelm/Pickelhaube helmet.
Sister/Father Maple: Syrupy US Southern accent. Dressed in clerical garments.
Gabrielle/Gabriela: A Nantucket, Massachusetts radical. Wears slip-on shoes, knickers and flowy, puffy sleeved shirt.
Pip Bildad: Scottish accent. Wears kilt.

All characters have drinks at hand.

SETTING:
November 21, 2019, Fortnight Brewery where Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly is conducting their monthly meeting.

[TORSTEIN enters, places case of Pequod Pale Ale 13 on a wobbly stand, looks around the room and taps table twice with his gavel.]

Torstein:
Seeing that the crew is assembled I call to order the November meeting of Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly. [Gavel bang.] Please note that the case before us rests upon a very unsteady foundation.

Pip:
Mr. Foreskin, I object!

Torstein:
It’s Torstein! Or Mr. de Beer! How many times must I tell you this? And to what are you objecting?

Pip:
Right you are, foreskin. Laddies and genitaled of the jury the case before us is liquid, not solid, and therefore any discussion of its steadiness or unsteadiness is irreverent and unethereal.

Maple:
Objection! Unethereal? Pequod Pale Ale 13 is thirteen percent alcohol by volume which by definition is highly spirited. I move we strike Pip’s erroneous and inflammatory testimony from the record.

Gabriela:
Pequod Pale Ale 13 can be set on fire? [Flicks  lighter] Ohhh! Let me see!

Torstein:
There will be no fires set in Fortnight!

Pip:
Semimonthly!

Gabriela:
Bimonthly!

Maple:
Semimonthly. Bimonthly is both ambiguous, amorphous and blasphemous as it is used to mean both once every other month as well as twice a month! Carnage and chaos!

Torstein:
This is exactly why we can only meet once a month. This inability to differentiate between bimonthly and semimonthly is abominable. Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly found the first Friday to be too chaotic and hence has settled on the third Thursday for our monthly meetings. There is no ambiguity, the place isn’t as packed on Thursdays as it tends to be on Fridays and we know precisely when and where we shall be meeting. Here, at Fortnight on the third Thursday of the month.

Gabriela:
It would be nice to meet twice monthly, I mean, we’re meeting at Fortnight! It begs for a semimonthly get together,

Pip:
Fortnight! Once every two weeks is a fortnight!

Torstein:
That would leave us with 26.07142 meetings 75% of the time and-

Pip:
And 26.142857 25% of the time. Yes, yes! We’ve been over all this before!

Maple:
Except on Century years. Those aren’t leap years.

Gabriela:
Oh yeah? Don’t forget 2000!

Pip:
Two-thousand is history! Twenty-one-hundred won’t be a leap year!

Torstein:
Order![Gavel bang.] Order! [Gavel bang.] This meeting will come to order. Our conversation has flown far afield. Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly’s mission is to dissect erroneous word usages that have entered the lexicon of the English language, not to consider the solipsisms of the celestial fields.

Maple:
Astrological.

Pip:
Astronomical.

Gabriela:
[Stunned with own revelation.] Whoa. Leap years are a semi-biennial. Mind blown.

Maple:
Semi-biannual!

Pip:
Semi-semiannual!

Torstein:
[Bangs gavel.] Biennial is a second anniversary. Gabriela, despite her nonstandard usage, is mostly correct. A thing that occurs every four years could be described as a semi-biennial.

Maple:
I thought it was a plant that lives for two years?

Gabriela:
It’s something that only occurs every other year, so a leap year is a semi-biennial.

Pip:
Biannual occurs every other year.

Gabriela:
False, Pip Bildad! False and inflammatory. Biannual is something that happens twice a year. Like equinoxes. Or Solsti.

Maple:
Isn’t that equini and solsticeses?

Torstein:
It is equinoxes and solstices. I just Googled it this morning!

Gabriela:
Whatever for? What are you, a Wiccan?

Torstein:
No, Lutheran. Astronomy, not astrology.

Maple:
What’s your source on solsticeses?

Torstein:
My source is preeminent and impeachable. I used Dictionary Dot Com.

Maple:
Dictionary dot com? B’gosh and begorrah to steal a quip from Pip! Go Webster’s or go home.

Pip:
Oxford!

Gabriela:
Slip-ons! Laces are for losers!

Torstein:
I perused carefully.

[Pip, Gabriela and Maple all stare at Torstein.]

Torstein:
What?! That is the literal meaning of peruse! To look carefully, not this bastardized skimming you Americans insist on. Do I need to teach you all English?

Pip:
Hey, laddie! Watch who you’re calling an American.

Gabriela:
I think you mean, do I need to teach all of you English, not, “teach us all English?”

Torstein:
That’s literally what I just said!

Maple:
Well, the last part is. Almost. You said, “Do I need to teach you all English?” and Gabbi said teach us all English so she changed the pronoun you to us when we had a perspective change. And teaching us all English would never end as language is an evolving, changing, dynamic entity. I think you’d have much better luck if you tried to teach all of us English.

Pip:
I believe our change in perspective is precisely the problem. The case before us is Pequod Pale Ale 13.

Gabriela:
Which can or cannot be ignited?

Torstein:
Regardless of can or cannot it may not. At least not in Fortnight. You are welcome to take your share home and experiment with them as you see fit.

Maple:
Them or it?

Torstein:
Yes.

Maple:
No, I meant which is correct?

Torstein:
Yes, I know what you meant and I believe both are legitimate here. It is your share but we will divide them equitably as per our shares.

Pip:
Equitably, not equally.

Gabriela:
Justice for Ishmael!

Torstein:
Our society, based upon the principles laid forth by the late, great Herman Melville [All bow heads.] who painstakingly laid forth the procedures by which investors and crew members of Nineteenth Century whaling ships were equitably awarded proportions of profit, distributes our provisions based upon shares. It is all in the Assembly’s charter and any changes in our bylaws must be presented in committee, lobbied and voted upon.

Gabriela:
I so move!

Torstein:
[Gavel thump.] Out of order!

Maple:
Crewmate Gabriela has a point. Why aren’t our shares distributed equally?

Gabriela:
Yes! We pay the same dues.

Torstein:
Because equal and fair are not synonyms. Our dues are more than geld. Those of us who have been members longer have sweat equity. If you’re unhappy I suggest you write an amendment to our constitution.

Pip:
Amendments require a two-thirds majority vote.

Torstein:
[Gavel thump.] Order! Order!

Maple:
I move we move Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly farther than we’ve done before.

Torstein:
Farther or further? Are we talking distance or ideology?

Maple:
Distance! It’s getting awfully noisy in here. I move we move outside to the veranda.

Pip:
Lanai.

Gabriela:
The deck!

Torstein:
Or courtyard. I believe we should table further discussion on moving farther until after we have finished sharing our thoughts on the equitable distribution of shares.

Pip:
Equitable!

Gabriela:
Queequeg! Queequeg! Queequeg!

Torstein:
Order! [Gavel bang.] Order! [Gavel bang.] We shall have order.

Pip:
If you’d distribute the Pequod Pale we wouldn’t have to order again.

Maple:
You know we’re not allowed to ingest or imbibe any outside food or drink inside these Fortnight walls. We gave our word in return for the space.

Pip:
Aye, aye. And aye yai yai yai yai yai. Sprains my sporran every time I buy a drink.

Torstein:
A society is only as good as its word and Ishmael’s Etymological Assembly has given ours. Das Pequod Pale must not be opened until you are home. Arrive alive. Don’t drink and drive.

Maple:
“Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunk Christian,” to quote Saint Melville.

Gabriela:
Body of Christ?

Maple:
Blasphemy!

Pip:
“Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me.” 

Gabriela:
Ahab! Ahab! Ahab! Ahab!

Torstein:
Order! [Thumps gavel.] Order! [Thumps gavel.]

Lights Down

Make Our Way

Tags

Fuquay Varina, Holly Springs, North Carolina, Stageworks, The Boys Next Door, Tom Griffin

We four boys, we four men, we four wards struggling
to live life rich and full make our way, we’re handful.
There’s poor Jack, caseworker, who must guide, push and pull.
Every day, something new mundane stuff stumps his crew.

Barry is best of friends. Ringleader is Wiggins.
Arnold with flashing lights, projection, polished plight.
Theater urinals, Corbin sends mixed signals.
Clara has just one word, “Just say no!” Ronnie’s term.

Norman loves all doughnuts, working hard, questions rough.
“How are you?” him dismays, he knows not what to say.
Love int’rest, Sheila girl, not Aussie, Norman’ world.
Little rat, a hamster, fear we crush Warren’s fur.

We’ve neighbors interact, Barry loves golfing act;
misses mom, she’s long dead, focus on Fremus deaf.
Klemper is SOB, heart so small eyes can’t see.
John Hodges golfing game, Hedges is his last name. 

What we call home sweet home apartment in shadow,
shadow of a prison, walls, towers binds us all.
Matters not intellect, social skills or defect
our group home we do strive to create our best lives.

We’ve been taught how to act, say, “Hello!” Invite back.
“Have a seat.” “It’s nice day.” Trivial in no way.
Life is hard when one can’t understand or descant.
We can speak, we all feel, outside world’s still unreal.

Lucien Percival is my name, mind’s most dull.
There’s State Sneck, nemesis, Spiderman, Clark auspice.
We go round in circles when we speak parallel.
Don’t connect but we love, we’ll get by help above.  

We’ve been taught how to act, say, “Hello!” Invite back.
We four boys, we four men, we four wards struggling
to live life rich and full make our way, we’re handful.
We go round in circles when we speak parallel.